Jason's battle started on February 16th. to save his life. Every day was highs and lows, from one to the other. Filled with advances and set backs. Through it all, Jason kept his sense of humor, his undying love for me, and his will to survive. I have been helping him walk with a modified tote bag, half dragging, carrying, and lifting him across the yard and up the steps.

I put aside my own hurts for him and was determined Jason would survive. If he made it up the steps with my help, he wagged his tail, proud of himself. If he crashed with all legs down, he had a worried look. At that point I would hug him, ruffle his coat, and tell him it was OK, we would make it. "Don't worry, Jason, you are a good boy, it is OK, we will do better next time." Sometimes we did and the happy look and wagging tail made it worthwhile.

Jason had "O" thyroid, inhalation pneumonia, and spondylyosis. We had a regular medical Vet and a holistic one for acupuncture and VOM. He was on the strongest medicine they have for dogs, plus I spent every night researching at Vet hospitals/universities and writing to specialists. Jason's records, x-rays, tests, went out at a cost of $200. each time for reading / suggestions of leading Vets all over the country.

My Vet kept warning me he was a big dog, nearly ten, had lived his lifeline, but I closed my ears. He would tell me the cost of treatments and I answered, "So?" "Do it!" Since Feb. 16th. I spent $3,000 trying to help him beat this thing.

The weekend he was great, actually greeting me at the door, wagging his tail, saw him jump over a jump on his own, I felt so elated, We were winning, Jason was getting better. Somewhere, somehow, between Sunday and Monday morning he started throwing-up, laboring for air. X-rays showed the pneumonia was worse than ever, air was entering his belly, inflating it, his lungs were full, IV's were started.

He was suppose to come home Monday evening, but each report got worse. At 6 p.m. I went to be with him. I opened his cage, he looked at me, but made no move to come. He raised his head laboring to breathe, I held him, petting him, telling Jason what he meant to me. I didn't want to cry and worry him, I held it in. As I sat doing this, he pulled his head away lying down again. I sat and listened, the clock nearing 7, I kept thinking I was now not doing the best for him.

Calling the Vet over, talking about transferring him to the University of Penn. She said it might be weeks of being in ICU with oxygen, but the main problem she stated was his enlarged heart, it was being strained and they thought that night he would go into heart failure. I told her I thought it was time to euthanize him. At that moment Jason raised his head and stretched his head over to me, looking into my eyes. I felt he knew and at that moment I lost it.

I held my baby close as the series of needles started. My heart broke. The last few days without him have been pure hell. I look for him everywhere, his chair, his dog beds, my bed, his crate, his back yard filled with his agility equipment, his travel bags, the hand tooled leather collars/leashes of all kinds, his many toy boxes, his bone jars, but mostly as I sit here---I miss his head on my lap, his eyes filled with love watching me.

"Jason---You were one of a kind. Certainly you will never be matched. Your protection and love of me will be unmatched. Your fondness for farm animals and the love and protection they felt from you. Your love of your pack, your quietness, but watchfulness of strangers human or animal, your sense of humor telling on other dogs when they did something wrong.

I can see you running into the kitchen, butt hitting the floor, tail banging the floor, eyes lit up. My questioning you--"Is someone being bad, Jason?" You getting up so excited, running forward and back, until I followed you to find the culprit. Your sheer delight in the fact they were caught. What will I ever do without you, Jason? You took part of me with you. My life will never be the same. I feel so lost."

Love your Mom